


Last Breath

by Asreoniplier (AsreonInfusion)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Actual Demon Anti, Blood, Character Death, Choking, Gore, Graphic Violence, Horror, Murder, Severe Injury, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 00:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17971019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsreonInfusion/pseuds/Asreoniplier
Summary: You've talked back to Anti one too many times, and he has no reason to keep a mouthy, disobedient puppet around. (This fic is basically just the reader getting brutally murdered by actual demon Anti, so have fun with that.)





	Last Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Final crosspost from Tumblr for the day, that should be everything I've written all in the same place now. I hope no one expected any kind of coherent content from me, because I will go from schmoopy fluff like the Counterbalance series all the way through to fucked up, horrific murder, haha whoops.
> 
> But for serious, this is very violent and graphic and gory, so be careful if you're squeamish or uncertain about reading that kinda stuff.

There’s no way to get away from him.

You were never going to get away from him. You don’t know why you even tried. Running would only make things worse, but it was just… instinctual. That look in his eyes, his expression twisted and seething. Violent and demonic and murderous.

Terror had overtaken everything.

Your chest feels too tight, you can’t get enough air in. Breaths ragged and muscles screaming, but you can’t stop, you don’t dare stop. You don’t even know where you’re going, you just have to  _run_ , but he’s right there behind you. You can feel it in the static that crackles down your spine, the thick, thunderous ozone.

It’s too late. There’s no way to fix this. Even if you could stop, even if you had the breath left to beg for mercy, Anti doesn’t have any to give.

He could catch you in an instant if he wanted. But he’s  _enjoying_  this. Slowly stalking you like goddamn prey, rage building and writhing with each thunderous step he takes after you. Rage and sadistic, cruel violence. Just waiting for the moment—

You can’t run forever. But you can’t stop either, so you just keep pushing, and pushing, until it feels like you’re going to be sick and your head is spinning, and your leg buckles and sends you crashing to the floor.

Even if you had the strength to, Anti doesn’t give you the opportunity to get up. Your trembling arms scrabble to push yourself up off the concrete, but Anti’s boot presses heavily into your back and shoves you back down.

His grin is feral and unhinged and full of malice.

You make a short, choked noise of pain; he’s crushing your chest into the floor, and your aching lungs were already struggling to breathe without having the air forced out of them.

“A-Anti…!” you gasp. Not because of the way he’s pinning you down, that’s nothing yet. Because you fucked up, and you’re going to suffer for it, and you’re terrified of what he’s capable of.

Why the fuck did you ever speak back to him? Actually tried to  _argue_ with him? How fucking stupid can you get? If you could have only kept quiet like a good little puppet, maybe you could have gotten out of this alive. But you never did know how to keep your pretty fucking mouth shut.

“Anti  _what?_ ” he asks you; goading, mocking.

“Anti, Master, I—I’m sorry!! I’m  _sorry_ , I didn’t mean—” You’re cut off into a cry of alarm as Anti’s hand wraps around the back of your neck; he lifts you easily and just fucking  _throws_  you straight into the wall.

Something in your chest cracks, and the back of your skull slams into the bricks with a sickening crunch. Your vision swims, pain bursting behind your eyes. Anti holds you there, all your weight carried by a single hand around your throat. Tight. Too tight, and it brings tears to your eyes.

You’re not sure how much is the way Anti’s choking you and how much is pure fear.

All you can see is him. That face that looks so handsome on Jack is twisted and contorted into something horrifying; the sickening green glow of his eyes, so full of wrath; sharp teeth bared in a cruel sneer. The sheer  _power_  he carries, violent and untamed.

Monster. Demon.

“Never. Fuckin’. Talk back to me,” he says.

“I’m  _sorry—_ ”

His grip tightens, and you—you can’t breathe. He’s completely crushing your windpipe and you try to struggle, try to squirm in his grip, but there’s nothing you can do. Your hands fly up, clutching at his wrist, desperately trying to pull him off because he’s—that  _hurts_. You never even got a chance to get your breath back, and all too quickly your lungs are burning, head spinning. There’s already darkness clawing in at the edges of your vision. Not just the edges. It’s completely taking you over, dragging you under, and he’s not  _stopping._

He’s… he’s going to kill you. Oh, god. You knew he could, you’d been afraid of exactly that, but the reality of it finally hits you and something in your spirit shatters.

You’re barely a second away from passing out when he releases you, letting you collapse to the floor like a rag doll. Tears are streaked down your cheeks; you can finally breathe but you’re almost choking on the gasping, sobbing gulps of air you take.

“Oh, it ain’t gonna be that easy,  _puppet_ ,” Anti mocks, voice glitching and vicious. “You don’t fuckin’ deserve a quick death.”

“ _Please–!”_

Anger glitches across his face. “Ye still don’t know when to  _s̔̃̋͆͗h̷͈̣͍̼̘̬͂̌u̴̞͈͉͊̾̊ṯ̹͓̟̦͙̅ ̣͉ͩ̀̊̌ͣű̢̫̐̔̒͑ͨ̇p̨̣̟̩͎̮ͮ̓̿͋ͅ_.” He punctuates the final words with his knife.

It just feels like a punch to the gut at first; it just  _aches_ , and you almost don’t even realise until you feel the warmth of blood gushing out over your stomach.

He’s—

That’s—

You choke on a sob. It’s buried just below your diaphragm, all the way to the hilt, and it—it’s a dull, burning ache, at least until Anti fucking  _twists_  the knife into you and you shriek. He angles it up and white hot agony lances through you.

“Nononono, nono,  _no!_ ” You’re gagging on your own broken pleas, and Anti just—he’s  _enjoying_ this, a cruel delight in his eyes as he watches your body convulse every time he twists the knife just a little deeper. “Stop! A-Anti, please, I don’t—”

You don’t want to die. Oh god, you don’t want to die.

You feel like you’re going to throw up.

Anti grips your bruised, damaged throat again and slams your head back. “Shut. Up,” he growls, the sound of it absolutely feral.

You never learn. You never fucking learn.

You open your mouth to beg again, and a look of pure, rageful loathing warps Anti’s features. He moves like fucking lightning, grasping your jaw in an iron, vice-like grip. His clawed fingers dig into your face, tearing into your skin, but you barely notice that. Not when he yanks the knife out of your stomach and brings it to your lips, and you have barely a second to comprehend and shriek in sheer horror before it’s in your mouth and—

He cuts your fucking tongue out.

All you can taste is blood. There’s so much of it, filling your mouth, spilling out down your jaw, coating Anti’s fingers where he’s holding you. You’re going to suffocate, you’re going to drown in it.

The pain is unbearable.

“There,” Anti sighs, finally sounding satisfied. His hand slides down to your throat and tightens, less harshly that before, but still tight, still choking you, and he watches with sadistic pleasure as your eyes start to turn glassy and dim. “Do you want to die yet, puppet? Or should we have a little more  _fun?_ ”

He trails the knife back down to the wound he’s already left.

“Shall I cut you open so you can see your guts spill out all over the floor? Or shall I flay the skin from your pretty little body? Could pluck out yer eyes as well…”

The only sounds you can make are muffled, desperate sobs, blood gargling in your throat and filling your lungs. There’s already too much damage, you’re not going to survive that wound to your gut. You’re just going to bleed out, slowly and painfully, for however long Anti wants to toy with you.

Your face is a mess of tears, nose running as well, and he’s slowly, slowly choking you out. The darkness is creeping back into your vision, and it’s nice, it a fucked up way, because the pain starts to blur out as unconsciousness reaches up to swallow you.

But he doesn’t let you go, and you give a wet, gurgling scream when Anti releases your throat right at the last second.

End it end it end it, please just fucking  _end it_.

Anti just  _cackles_ , drinking in your broken desperation and suffering. He stabs you again, the same place, but this time he drags the knife all the way down - slowly, purposefully, letting your feel every torturous moment - from just below your sternum to your navel. 

He plunges his hand into the wound and it’s  _agony_.

“You know you deserve this, don’t ye?”

No, nononono—

“Fuckin’—” his hand makes the most sickening sound inside you “—disobedient—” as he grips your intestines and  _tears_  “—bitch.”

Your throat is utterly raw, but you can’t stop your warped, voiceless screams. Annoyed, Anti clamps a hand down over your mouth until all that comes out are muffled cries.

It’s unbearable. The agony is all-consuming. There’s nothing left in your existence but the sheer, white-hot pain. You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You can’t live, not much longer.

Anti lifts his blood-soaked hand to his mouth and licks it, curling his inhumanly long tongue around his fingers and humming with satisfaction. Eyes locked with yours, watching as you fade fast. The light draining from your eyes, your body becoming too weak to even keep up its convulsions anymore.

He takes your head in both of his hands, almost tenderly in comparison to everything that’s come before. The juxtaposition is sickening.

“G̵͈̼̟̗̽ͥǒ̴̤̙̪̭̺͐o̡̱̙͒ͫͫ͆̏̚d̳̻͇ͅb̺̩̰̲͉̕ͅŷ͎̤͙̬̹̯̞̈͊ͨ̕e̸͈͓ͭ͐ͧͭͣͯ,̝͎̰̘̠̩̋͌ ̿̓ͬ͒p̢͕̼u̘̬̪̱̺̼̎͊ͥͥͪ̂p̘̯̙̳̒ͩ̓p̖̬͈̾ͥ͌̽̚ė̋t̻͍̹̯͊͂ͬ̓͊,” he purrs,  _savouring_  one last moment of the utter horror he’s wrought. Then he snaps your neck, and darkness consumes you in a final, blissful instant.


End file.
